


Black Sheep

by Memaiko



Series: All Hail Britannia [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Arthur Kirkland - Freeform, AsaKiku - Freeform, Countries Using Human Names, Depression, Drama & Romance, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Islands, Kiku Honda - Freeform, Kissing, Loneliness, M/M, Mentioned France (Hetalia), Name-Calling, Nations, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Pining, Sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 13:32:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7759708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Memaiko/pseuds/Memaiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An island is always different than the mainland countries – Arthur can tell a thing or two about that. But a certain man makes him realise that being an island doesn't necessarily result in being lonely. (UK/Japan)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Sheep

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Black Sheep  
> Rating: K+  
> Genre: Hurt/Comfort; Romance  
> Pairing: England x Japan (Asakiku)
> 
> A One Shot requested by a dear friend.

It was obvious for everyone why he was different. The odd one out.  
The Black Sheep of Europe.  
It wasn't his looks for sure and it wasn't his style of clothing either. It was just what made him himself: His behaviour, his personality, his actions.  
And his geographic situation.  
Hell, he was completely apart from the mainland of the European continent! And when Francis first dropped that name, this word that defined him the most, he felt something like a small, but awfully tearing pain inside him: "Black Sheep of Europe." He told himself not to take that name too serious, it was nothing more than a teasing from that bloody Frenchman after all. But still.  
From the time on Spain used to call him that way. And Germany. And all the other countries of Europe.  
He knew that he couldn't hold back the tears any more, when he heard all the insults and bad talk behind his back. And he hated himself for letting them flow.  
In the end he knew that he hadn't had a choice in this matter. He had been destined to be different from the very day he was born to be the representation of the United Kingdom.  
And that's why he had decided to make the world recognize him: Day after day, month after month and year after year he threw himself into all kinds of battles, just to prove that an outsider like him was able to be as strong and fearsome as all the other mainland countries. And it wasn't long after he had found the one, that was just as strong and fearsome as him: The blond boy with the pretty locks and the obnoxious laughter, which drove him mad.  
But then the day came when he turned into the fear of the ocean and the conqueror of the new continent. The day came when he defeated his nemesis and had the new land all for his own.  
And the day came, when his new land defeated him.  
When he took back a step to see what he had done all his life.  
To see the scars on his body the wars had left, the pain and agony he had gone through.  
To see the millions of dead bodys, the broken ships and the blood that coloured the sea around him in crimson red.  
When those wild days of bloodshed seemed to fade away in a haze of peace, in a time where the countries around him stopped to struggle and fight and instead built up a union of harmony and serenity, he - again- was different.  
He refused to bow down to the rules. He refused to be in a union with that damned frog.  
Eventually he did. 

The peace was dazzling.  
There were wars and quarrels going on around the world every time of the day. He didn't believe that eternal peace in Europe was ever possible and he condemned the union the countries of the mainland had built up. And he cursed his brothers every time they started a riot and a march to gain their independence.  
Why would everybody eventually turn against him every time?  
Easy.  
A black sheep would always draw the world's hate and disgust upon it.  
It's nature's law.

Strolling through the crowded streets of London with gloomy thoughts on his mind and maledictions on his lips, the grip around his chequered umbrella tightened. Not many people were out today in this part of the city, mainly because of the pouring rain. The cold wind tickled the back of his neck just like a mischievous fairy.  
He wanted to go home. Drinking tea and sitting in a cosy armchair sounded like heaven in this moment. But he couldn't. He couldn't stand this lonely room in his grey apartment any more. It was warm, yes. Something was still missing.  
And he knew what it was every time a couple passed him. Or a mother and her child. Or a group of friends.  
It was the warmth of another person next to him. The presence of somebody, who enjoyed his company. A kind smile.  
But who would love a black sheep?

He took the other road, the one where no one would go at a time and weather like this. When he reached the wharf he looked around himself and then slowly sat down on the wet bench. He could feel the cold creeping in from every side but he didn't mind. The aching thoughts made him numb, the loneliness was like a killing blow. He knew this feeling too well. On rainy days like this, he would find himself cursing his bloody sentimentality for all the misery he was in. And all he did was stare to the ground, watching the puddles becoming bigger and bigger and the rain harder and heavier. The sky was almost black now.  
So this was him. This was the man, the embodiment of the glorious British Empire, who conquered so many and fought so fearlessly. The same lonely man who was sitting alone in the rain and wishing for someone to stand by his side. Someone who would comfort him when memories of the past haunted him. A bunch of neighbouring countries whom he could pay a visit and talk to. A better relationship with his brothers.  
Arthur buried his face in his hands. 

Even the company of Francis was better than this silent solitude he was trapped in. 

"It is raining heavily. You will catch a cold, if you insist on staying here."  
When he felt something on his back, he slowly looked up. This voice was familiar. A string of memories rushed through his brain. An alliance. An island. Somewhere in the far, far east.  
"Arthur-san, please allow me to take you home. It isn't good to be outside now. They said there will be thunder soon." The voice came nearer to his ear, he felt the breath of another person on his cheek. "You didn't drink again, did you?"  
Hesitantly he shook his head, felt the raindrops sliding down his forehead, his brows, the tip of his nose and mixing with his tears. "Good." The smaller man next to him straightened again. Holding out his hand, he let a faint smile cross his lips. Arthur stared at the representation of Japan. He was an island too. Someone who was well aware of the choking solitude and the wall of silence that came along with being a nation surrounded only by water. His gaze went down to Kiku's outstretched hand. It was offering a safe walk home, a walk he didn't have to go alone.

"What are you doing here in England?", Arthur mumbled in a low voice and grabbed the Japanese's fair hand. Why did he intend to touch the Black Sheep of Europe?  
"You didn't show up at the meeting the other day. I was worried that you might have overdone it again with the alcohol." That caused Arthur to laugh softly. "I didn't find you in your apartment, so I thought you might be here at the docks." Kiku turned his head to look at the ships that were gently swaying in the moving water only metres away from the two. "Why were you so sure to find me here?"  
"Well..." The smaller man paused for a moment and let the rain take up the silence. "As an island I'm deeply tied to the sea. However stormy and dark it might be on a rainy day I can't deny my affection for it. Islands do feel different for the water that surrounds them. It's an undeniable fact." He turned back again, his dark umbrella and matching coat melted with the buildings around him and let his white skin shine in the dark. "You are right", Arthur simply stated. He couldn't say anything better in this particular moment. It was like he had forgotten how to express himself, like his eloquence had been swept away by the fierce waves of the sea. Or like Kiku had said everything that was necessary for him to wake up from this paralysing state of melancholy.  
Side by side they walked down the streets of Great Britain's busy capital. Even now in the pouring rain people were strolling around the wide variety of stores, brollys in all colours of the rainbow in their hands like dots of paint on a grey canvas. 

Kiku was sharing his umbrella with the Brit since his had been damaged when it fell down the bench into rainwater. They had to walk very close so they would be protected by the heavy rain, one clothed arm rubbing against another one. Usually Kiku would be uncomfortably shifting from the nearness of another person, but he seemed perfectly fine this time. Arthur was grateful for that. He wanted to feel another living person, someone who wouldn't reject him. Not now.  
When they reached the door of his habitation, Arthur sighed.  
Back in the loneliness it was. He didn't deserve any better it seemed.  
Kiku watched him silently as he searched for his keys in the coat pockets. "Is something the matter?"  
"N-no, I'm just-"  
"Your hands are shaking really awfully."  
The Brit took a look at them and had to agree with clenched teeth. He was terrible at hiding his emotions in front of the other man. Reading the atmosphere was one of Kiku's special abilities after all. "I need the key. It must be there somewhere...bloody hell, I can't find the damn thing...where have I-" He stopped mid sentence after he had got hold of it. He gulped. "Well, I have it. I'm sorry for the worries, Kiku, you really didn't have to search for me, I can look after myself after all!" A painfully fake smile crossed his lips. The look on his face contradicted his words and he was aware of that. "I suppose you still have some business to do here, so I'll leave you for now. Good evening and take care!" He turned the key around in the lock and when he heard the clicking sound, his eyes began to sting again. He didn't need anyone. Just himself. It was okay.  
It was perfectly okay.  
It was...

...not okay.

The key slipped from his hands when Kiku took a step closer and got hold of Arthur's wrist. Taken by surprise the blond man blinked. "I'm sorry Arthur-san, but it is painful to watch you in such a state. I don't want you to be so sad. I'm sorry." Kiku's hands were small and fair, his fingers slender and smooth, unlike Arthur's bruised and calloused ones. More like a woman's hands. "I'm not really the right person to do this but you are not leaving me any other choice", he replied with his steady, calm voice. Slowly his hand made its way up his cheek, his fingertips touching Arthur's jawline so tenderly that it could have been nothing more than a breeze of air. He stepped on his tiptoes, trying to make his face come nearer to the other one's and with slight hesitation he pecked the Brit on the tear stained cheek. It took Arthur a moment to realise what Kiku had done: He had kissed him every so slightly, but nevertheless it was a kiss. A gesture full of appreciation and affection.  
Arthur didn't exactly remember the last time he had received a loving kiss from someone. Had it been Alfred when he was still a child? From Francis as an act of teasing? His Queen?  
No, but this was something different.  
Something entirely different. 

Kiku let go of the Brit, cheeks slightly flushed. "I said before, I am not the kind of person to do this", he whispered and averted his eyes, "but it was the only thing that came into my mind. I apologize for my rude behaviour, Arthur-san." The blonde didn't reply. Instead he tried to remember the sensation of the kiss, tried to keep it as fresh and alive in his memory as possible.  
“I know what it means. Being lonely. I isolated myself for far too long in the past, but Alfred-kun was there to help me. And I think I have to help you the same way now."  
Kiku bent down to collect the key of Arthur's apartment and gave it back. "I don't think you should go there alone. May I...may I join your company? I'm fully aware of my rudeness to invite myself, but I would feel very bad if I left you alone now."  
Arthur couldn't stop himself from nodding. A smile placed itself on his face and he put the Japanese's hands in his own.  
"Y-yes, I don't mind. I really don't mind at all, Kiku!" Tears flowed again, but this time they were streams of happiness. "Please make yourself my guest! Do you want me to get you tea? You love tea, don't you? Oh, I will cook something for you! Just tell me what you would like to have, I'll get out my cooking book!"  
Japan covered his mouth and chuckled. "I would appreciate a cup of tea, Arthur-san. Thank you."  
Arthur smiled back while he made his way up the stairs to his door and turned the key around. "No, thank you, Kiku!"

Thank you.

Thank you for saving the black sheep from its loneliness.

**Author's Note:**

> The very first story I wrote in a language different than my native one.  
> Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
